Reconnect
by Novoux
Summary: Genos knows he can fix a little damage to himself, but Saitama-sensei makes it hard to concentrate. Saigenos


There's an unexpected, sustained silence between them.

Saitama pretends not to notice. After all, if Genos wants to talk to him, that's his decision to make. Not like he should be _concerned_ or anything—he scoffs at the idea and waves it off without a thought—because Genos is Genos, and even if the habit of silence between them is unusual, he figures Genos will bring up a conversation in his own time.

That, and it's not like Saitama hasn't tried.

"Are you sure you don't need anything, Genos?" he calls, the second or third time already after Genos has disappeared to the bathroom. Something about checking for damage, because Saitama knows when they walk back to their apartment that Genos can't hold himself up straight and whenever a strange popping noise comes from him, Saitama thinks he hears his disciple hiss in what sounds like pain. It's hard to be sure, since he's not exactly aware of everything that goes on with Genos' system and whether or not he can feel pain as much, but he knows enough that the condition Genos is in is taking a toll on him.

Something muffles against the bathroom door, Genos' voice straining—Saitama can't miss that—"I will be able to repair myself." And then there's nothing, not even a _sensei_ to remind Saitama not to worry, that he can handle himself even if his face contorts and twists whenever he thinks Saitama doesn't notice.

Saitama doesn't respond, going by the tone of Genos' voice that perhaps it's not the best thing to do. With the manga in his hands he should be just taking the time to relax, even if replays of watching Genos being thrown around like a rag doll keep repeating in his head. He's not entirely worried, not about the fact Genos always manages to get himself hurt even if Saitama jokingly orders him not to be so careless.

 _Careless_ is the wrong word to use the moment Genos frowns and he mumbles a quick apology before the silence between them starts. Just for as long as it takes for Genos to repair himself, deciding not to head to Dr. Kuseno when he calls it minor damage. Regardless, it still looks like it hurts and Saitama can't seem to understand why.

Why he's so concerned with this—this change of dynamics between them. The growing silence, Genos refusing to ask for help with anything even though he's completely fine after every time he repairs himself. Which stretches on, soon becoming two weeks of mostly silence comprised of small talk conversations when Saitama is the one to start them up. Each and every time he figures Genos just needs some time to think over things, though he's never recalled Genos ever being so quiet even when they have lazy days together not taking care of monsters.

A pitiful sound comes from the bathroom, like a tight breath being sucked in and then the sound of a muffled cry. Saitama can't stop himself from looking up toward the bathroom door again, contemplating whether or not he should ask—Genos already said _no,_ and it's one of the few times he's said much at all with a definitive tone.

Shaky, more or less, if Saitama mulls it over in his head as he thinks of Genos and the sudden quiet that becomes him, creeping like the shadows of an early winter threatening to take the last lights of the day. But still—

"Ah!" Saitama hears it, louder and clearer before a crash and any attempt of ignoring what's going on in the bathroom is thoroughly destroyed by the sound Genos makes. Before he's even aware of it, Saitama's up and heading toward the door, raising a hand to carefully knock against the _closed_ (when has it ever been closed?) bathroom door.

"Genos," Saitama starts, swallowing a lump of something sticky and cold that refuses to go away when he hears more muffled noises that don't sound any better than the first. "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should go to Dr. Kuseno," he tries, swallowing over his words when they feel fuzzy and heavy in his mouth like he's not entirely sure of what he's saying. Or if he means it, which he knows he does, but the feeling doesn't leave him.

"I'm..." Genos' voice slips through the door, unsteady and it only raises more questions. "Just some difficulties with, ah, rep— _ah!_ -airs." And another hitched breath pushes Saitama's concerns. His voice is tight, tightly wound like a coil ready to burst, and it can't be good that Saitama can't understand why he's this frustrated over talking to a door instead of Genos. But before he can say anything, Genos tries again at attempting to persuade him to leave, though Saitama's mind is already set. "Please don't concern yourself, sensei, I will be finished...shortly."

In the ensuing moments of silence he hears Genos' teeth grinding together, soft groans slipping out of him when he knows Saitama is still outside the door. It doesn't convince him any more that Genos is just fine by himself, and if the fact that they haven't spoken much encourages him to be stubborn, then so be it. Only it's not like him to care this much, not going so far as to invade on Genos' personal time, especially when he's already apologetic about getting hurt so much.

Saitama keeps wondering to himself what the sort of feeling is when Genos won't even admit that maybe, just maybe, he's in pain.

But then he can't really understand himself, not when he's not sure why he's doing this in the first place. Behind the faulty excuse of just wanting to check on Genos, he can't name the dark feeling that settles in his mind amidst the regular emptiness he knows and remembers.

The worst part is, it's only getting stronger the longer the silence stretches.

"Genos," Saitama tries to filter words, putting them in some order to convey what he's thinking, not necessarily what he's _feeling—_ if he can call it that. "What's with the door? Come on, just talk to me for a minute." He doesn't like this, not at all when he has no idea why the door is shut or why Genos is silent for even longer, humoring the idea that perhaps he's done something wrong by saying too much or not enough.

"...Sensei, if I try to open the door..." Genos' voice comes smaller than it normally sounds, like he's waiting to be scolded for something he hasn't done. Saitama doesn't understand it, confused as he tries to figure out the meaning. "...I may collapse on you."

At that, Saitama pushes the door open with little reservation to the sight of Genos leaning against the wall, eyes averting Saitama's the moment he's exposed. Like a scorned puppy he shrinks back, almost, as if expecting Saitama to insult him the moment he lays eyes on him.

There's no time to speak, not when Genos suddenly pitches forward, losing his balance and Saitama's there to stop him before his head hits the countertop, surprising the both of them. He's not sure why Genos can't catch himself, but then Genos is squirming away from him as soon as he can and murmuring gratitude with the same evasive feeling that makes the lump in Saitama's throat harden.

"...Genos?"

Genos can't meet his eyes, _refuses_ to. "I'm sorry...Saitama-sensei, it's just a minor repair." His shoulders tremble, Saitama notices, when his fingers reach to his knee and a patch of metal plating is missing, wires hanging out the side. When his fingers touch the area his jaw tightens, his breaths sharp as he struggles to keep silent.

Saitama comes close, watching Genos carefully as he does so. "Ah, you really shouldn't be up then, Genos, you look like you can hardly stand." He doesn't understand why Genos shakes his head roughly, shakily grabbing at the wires while he groans under his breath. From where Saitama is he can see the pain etched in his disciple's features, a clear giveaway despite the fact that Genos claims he's fine.

(It makes him wonder how many times Genos has done this before.)

Another gasp—"Ah!"-and Genos stumbles again with his balance, his shoulder rigid as his other hand suddenly flails to catch himself and this time Saitama watches as he pitches forward. But it doesn't last, not as Genos' face is pure agony for a moment, only brief so long as he thinks he's falling.

And when his head meets Saitama's chest, a pitiful moan comes from him. "I'm..." he can't find the words, Saitama finds as Genos tries to speak, voice tight and controlled. His chest heaves, as he breathes fast and his eyes are suddenly staring into Saitama's with a look of hopelessness. "S-Sorry, Sensei…"

Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, Saitama shakes his head as he slowly moves to shift Genos' weight onto his shoulders. "Don't apologize, Genos, you didn't do anything wrong." His arm finds its way around Genos' waist, feeling bumps and cracks where he doesn't think they should be—for now, he holds his tongue. "C'mon, let's get you to the couch, there's no way you can do this by yourself."

When he's not looking, the first step Genos takes has his eyes oily, clear fluid gathering in the corners with a controlled hiss that tries to pretend it's a sigh. Saitama doesn't notice, careful as he feels Genos' weight shift onto him more when they're past the doorway and he can't keep himself up for much longer. If Saitama does notice, then he sure doesn't say anything.

"Here," Saitama turns, moving Genos down to the couch as carefully as he can. The cyborg nearly falls again, hitting the couch a little more abruptly than Saitama prefers, but if it causes him pain then it's concealed in the blond's frown. Saitama slides to the other end of the couch, waiting for Genos to cautiously prop up his legs and lean against the couch arm while Saitama inspects the damage.

"It's nothing, Sensei, I can fix it with some time," Genos tries, but the look Saitama manages to shoot him quiets him again, because Saitama can _see_ how Genos' fingers dig into the cushion as soon as his fingers gently brush the area around the missing metal patch.

"What can I do, Genos?" he asks, knowing not to touch the wire while his fingers splay over the cyborg's knee. Genos shakes his head, opening his mouth to say something—only to quiet himself, his eyes staring toward the floor.

"The...wires," Genos breathes, shakily tapping the metal plating above his knee, "they've been ripped from their sockets, and I have to reconnect them." He glances back at Saitama, watching his mentor and suddenly forgetting the stinging pain in his knee. "And the process of..." he breathes harshly, feeling Saitama's fingers inch closer and a phantom ache stings through his circuitry. "Reconnecting them, it is often painful, especially when I have been..." Even when Saitama tries to get him to continue with an encouraging look, Genos refuses to elaborate further.

"Ah, well," Saitama's index finger runs against the wire, feeling the shudder Genos can't hide as his shoulders tense and his jaw grinds his teeth together. "Just let me know if I'm doing too much, and I'll help as much as I can." With that, he leans in a little further to get a good look at Genos' knee, grabbing one wire amongst the others and angling his fingers to reach inside Genos' knee.

Genos watches, trying to calm his breathing and it's no use, not when his sensei is so careful to reconnect the first wire—it brings a shiver of pain racing through his system where his brain recognizes it with the instinct to recoil. He's not normally like this, he hasn't been, but he thinks that in a battle two weeks or so prior, he must've had something glitch in his system.

That, or he's much weaker than he should be.

The thought doesn't keep the pain lingering in the back of his mind for long, for as soon as Saitama reaches for the next wire he feels like _something,_ with the sense of pain spiking in his knee and gripping onto his chest tightly like the anger he _wrongly_ feels when Saitama-sensei won't _listen_ to all the hints he tries to give, even though Dr. Kuseno says he should be more blunt, but…

"Ah!" Genos gasps before he can stop himself, curling in on himself in an act that is purely instinctual. Sensei's eyes are on him and he knows it the moment his eyes aren't malfunctioning with the white hot fury of pain blasting its way through his mind. In his horror at uttering yet _another_ moan of pain in front of his sensei, he moves to apologize.

Only Saitama shakes his head, patting Genos' fingers as they tear into the couch cushion instead of berating him for it. "So it hurts that bad, huh? Why didn't you say anything before, Genos?" While Genos is beside himself with what to say, Saitama feels the slightest hint of guilt—why didn't he notice this before—and then moves back to gently grabbing the wire, sliding it into the socket as gingerly as he can manage.

"I didn't want to disturb you, Sensei..." Genos speaks over a string of a low moan, finding fingers in his hand and clutching them while he's not thinking. "Not when I..."

"You what?" Saitama fingers the last wire, another twinge of guilt in his throat when Genos shivers at the touch. His eyes are constricted, lights of his body scan flickering in the irises while Genos glances to the space behind Saitama. Anywhere but Saitama, the hero finds. For some reason, it bothers him even more while he concentrates on the last wires. "You know, it doesn't help when my disciple is in pain and I don't know about it, Genos. You can tell me when you're hurt, I just want to make sure you're okay."

He thinks it's better than what he originally plans to say. Genos' eyes are back on his, and with the wire in Saitama's fingers sliding into place with a dull click, he bites his lip and Saitama finds himself staring.

Not to mention, Saitama's hand is still in Genos' and he doesn't seem to mind that at all. Maybe it distracts him, Saitama ponders, or maybe he's too preoccupied with the nameless emotion threatening to break through the barriers of his conscience. However, the feel of Genos staring at him doesn't go unnoticed.

One last wire and neither of them have spoken up, Genos' hand in his and his fingers frozen while Saitama's thumb runs in circles over the metal plate of the back of his hand. And with this one he knows by Genos' expression that it hurts, as the line of his lips tighten he can't help but feel the need to placate it somehow.

With a click, Saitama is close enough to easily press his lips against Genos', unsure of whether the gasp against his lips is of surprise or pain—probably both.

But with the wire in place, Genos' other hand comes around Saitama's neck, meaning it's a lot better than the gasps of pain Saitama doesn't like as much as he likes the low moan coming from Genos.

"Sensei..." Genos murmurs, cheeks wet with oil and trying to pull away, probably from the embarrassment in his voice. Except Saitama won't have that, not after two weeks of _nothing_ between them. Even as oil drips from his eyes, Genos finds Saitama pressing apologies against his lips and uses one hand to wipe off the oil streaking one cheek.

And even if Genos can't _stop,_ Saitama doesn't seem to mind.

* * *

 _Uh oh, I've invaded another fandom._

 _Thank you for reading._


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